


Taste

by Lythane



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Swap, Dom/sub Undertones, Dream Sex, Kinktober 2019, Multi, Sex Demons AU, Succubus, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lythane/pseuds/Lythane
Summary: Third Post for Kinktober 2019, Prompts are 'Body Swap' and 'Incubus/Succubus' feat. Noctis.---The first time Noctis walks to another’s dream he’s sixteen and inexperienced.Lost and uneasy, he stumbles through a smudged landscape laden with faces of figures he doesn’t recognise blurring in and out of existence.  Eventually the dream slips from him like sand through his fingers and he wakes in a cold sweat; anxious and confused, with a coiling warmth in his gut that lingers for the rest of the day.





	Taste

**Author's Note:**

> For the purpose of this very lightly outlined AU, a succubus is a sex demon that feeds from being submissive, and an Incubus is a sex demon that feeds from being dominant. Neither have anything to do with gender.

The first time Noctis walks into another’s dream he’s sixteen and inexperienced. 

Lost and uneasy, he stumbles through a smudged landscape laden with faces of figures he doesn’t recognise, blurring in and out of existence. Eventually the dream slips from him like sand through his fingers and he wakes in a cold sweat; anxious and confused, with a coiling warmth in his gut that lingers for the rest of the day. 

He begins to feel the pull more and more, like a switch turning on when he lies down to sleep or when a bout of exhaustion claims him after a particularly trying sparring match, guiding him with shaky direction into the minds of nearby dreamers so that he can feed. He lets his subconscious lead the way, awkwardly searching with little success.

It’s a slow, repetitive and tedious process without much success. And Noctis is _hungry_. 

The next time he wakes to a dream that is not his own, he turns his attention on actually finding his dreamer. Noctis teaches himself to twist and control another’s dream, to introduce himself in a natural way that doesn’t have them waking up before he’s got close enough to get anything out of the interaction. 

Gladio is his first real meal. His mind welcomes Noctis’ presence as a young, pretty-faced glaive and it’s almost too easy to lead his dream until they’re fucking in the training room. He conjures his form into a girl he thinks Gladio would like – he’s seen enough of them clinging to Gladio’s arm and laughing at his dumb jokes to at least hazard a guess – tall, dark hair, slim, nothing Noctis considers particularly noteworthy. 

Like a fly to honey, Gladio soon has him up against the wall, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and thrusting deep into Noctis’ cunt like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. 

Noctis closes his eyes, rolling his hips to meet Gladio’s as he drinks his shield's energy down. It’s addictive, a rush unlike anything he’s felt before and he can’t stop. His first successful feed and he’s drunk on it after a few seconds. He begs and pleads for it, gorging himself until he loses his hold on the dream and it drips into blackness.

Noctis wakes with a start; disorientated, dizzy and a tad nauseous... but _satisfied_ for the first time since he began. He almost purrs as he lays back down into his nest of pillows and lets sleep take him once more.

After that, he finds Gladio easily. On a whim, one night he presents himself as a man - another random glaive - and finds Gladio is just as receptive to him as when he was a woman. He bends Noctis over a desk in the Citadel and fucks him senseless, hands pressing bruises into Noctis’ slim hips until the power rush has Noctis’ milky skin beginning to fade to an icy blue; his true form breaking through his human illusion.

He visits every night that week, drunk on the power but mostly just eager to be under Gladio again. His shield welcomes him every time under any guise Noctis can be bothered to take. Eventually, boredom and curiosity convince him to approach Gladio in his dream as himself. 

He slips into the backseat of the Regalia beside his shield, hand slipping to the top of Gladio’s thigh and eyes him to gauge his reaction. Gladio cocks an eyebrow at him and the dream shimmers for a second, a moment of hesitancy from the dreamer.

“Noct?” Gladio asks, peeling Noctis’ hand from his thigh, “Feeling ok?”

Noctis just smirks and climbs onto Gladio’s lap with a grace only possible in dreams. He slides his school blazer off his shoulders and leans forward to press his lips to his shields, waiting for the moment he either loses his grip on the dream or Gladio accepts it.

Gladio’s hands slide up Noctis’ back, pulling him closer, gripping his waist with that strength and possessive nature Noctis has grown to love in their previous interactions. It only takes a soft moan and a slow grind of his hips before Gladio man-handles him out of the rest of his clothes and steals the breath from his lungs with a kiss so captivating that almost feels real. Noctis melts into the touch, welcomes the hands on his bare skin and the feel of Gladio’s lust directed at him, in his own form. 

Some of the things Gladio had whispered to him when they fucked flicker through Noctis' mind during the next day, leaving him flushed and flustered, but Gladio is none the wiser.

It doesn’t last. Noctis is greedy, visiting often and taking his fill; but the same meal soon becomes tiresome and he aches for something new, someone new. He turns his attention to the Glaive. 

Tredd is his first, and he quickly finds out that Tredd favours him when he appears as Luche. He seeks out Luche next, who does not seem to reciprocate the feelings. It’s interesting to tease the redhead, but only for a little while. Crowe is rough and dominant, and leaves Noctis aching for her nails down his back and her teeth on his neck, but she’s picky and Noctis quickly grows bored of being fixed in the form of his alleged future wife.

He appears to Pelna next, first as a woman, then a man, then as a few of the other glaives. He’s rebuffed, each time a little more forcefully than the last. He’s not been rejected before, so this new development has him frustrated and perplexed. 

Foregoing a good meal for stubbornness, he drifts to Pelna’s dream once again and finds the glaive waiting for him, which is... well, it’s never happened before.

“Demon,” Pelna says. Noctis frowns, holding his glamour (today he has chosen to mask himself as Crowe).

“You... can sense me?” he asks, curiously. Pelna nods.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other one: I’m not interested in sex, so unless you want to starve I suggest you look elsewhere.”

“There’s another?” Noctis asks, forgetting the reason he came here in the first place. He loses his grip on the dream as confusion washes over him. Another succubus in the castle? He’s never sensed another, never had to fight for food. It’s odd, to say the least.

Noctis spends the next day in the courtyard, assessing the Glaive. He reaches out with his senses and finds nothing amiss, no blinking neon sign that points to another dream feeder... But he doesn’t think Pelna had any reason to lie.

Perhaps the other was just a visitor who slipped past Noctis’ senses, then left? It’s possible, after all there are always new people moving in and out of the military. 

Noctis decides, after a few nights of not feeding, that if there is another, they have either left or are no threat to him, and he continues his feast through the Kingsglaive.

Nyx is next on his list, and Noctis decides he likes Nyx: The man seems to have endless energy and is more than welcoming to Noctis’ presence. His fondness for the glaive is short lived, however, when the second night, Nyx’s dream is forcibly ripped from his grasp, and Noctis finds himself trapped in an endless, stark landscape.

Noctis turns, slowly, on the spot. A haze of mist spans to the edges of his vision, the floor beneath his feet a mockery of the training room marble he had been on, but stretched far, far into the distance. Noctis tries to leave, to pull himself and wake but finds his being tethered and bound to this plane. 

He suppresses a shiver of fear… perhaps he should have looked a little harder for this ‘other’.

“You’re a long way from home, little succubus,” a voice says. It echoes around him, seemingly everywhere at once, demanding, threatening. Noctis can taste power in the air like lightning in a storm, ozone, thunder, gathering clouds, on the tip of his tongue.

The presence moves closer and Noctis peers through the mist at shapes in the darkness that twist and ripple around him.

“It’s rude to take food from someone else’s plate,” the voice says, “The Glaive is mine. Nyx, is mine.”

The mist starts to fall, gathering on the ground like a river of fog around Noctis’ feet. He watches as a form appears from the darkness, sensing it before he can pick out a shape. An Incubus. A very old, very powerful, very pissed off Incubus...

“I didn’t know...” Noctis says, uneasily. The voice barks a laugh, familiarity in the sound nagging at the corners of Noctis’ mind.

“You felt my presence; you saw my marks, could smell my scent. You chose to ignore it, _Your_ _Highness_.” The shadow takes form in front of him; tall, broad shoulders, sharp curving horns: Captain Drautos. 

Noctis swallows. Maybe he had missed the signs… ignored niggling warnings and merely assumed they were part of the dream.

Drautos watches him for a moment, clearly unimpressed.

“You’ve been causing me quite a lot of trouble for a succubus that doesn’t even have horns yet,” he says, and Noctis laughs nervously, glancing around into the endless darkness and still finding himself unable to leave, as if his body is locked here by ... well, by Drautos, he assumes. 

“I can’t control-”

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” Drautos deadpans, taking a step closer to tilt Noctis’ chin up with a short, sharp claw. “You may be the Crown Prince out there, but in here we play by different rules, and you’ve been feeding in my territory.”

Drautos inclines his head thoughtfully and drags his claw down the front of Noctis’ throat slowly, feeling the smaller demon’s pulse jackrabbit under the touch. Noctis stays frozen, staring up at reflective silver eyes as he feels the Incubus’ claw cut into his skin.

“You can’t kill me,” Noctis says, fighting to keep his voice level.

“No,” Drautos agrees, wiping a bead of blood from Noctis’ throat and bringing it to his lips thoughtfully, “But I am going to punish you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ( Sorry about the cliffhanger OTL )


End file.
